


I'd Rather Be Lanced

by HoneyBeeez



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Shiro dies but hes not a really big part?? its for plot i guess), BUT THINGS ARE NEVER EASY FRIENDS, Character Death, College AU, Drug Abuse, M/M, Theres like one fight does that count as violence??, also theres a lot of cussing if that causes alarm but most of that is later, blood warning, fake relationship au, i just dont want my teacher looking it up and finding my stuff online lololol, keith just wants things to be simple, lance crossdresses, lance is just an total contradiction and keith doesnt get it, mentions of abuse but nothing too graphic, plaaans, there is a good first aid Bonding Moment, theres a creep and punching involved, theres more to this and ill add more if theres interest!, this is from an original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11223072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBeeez/pseuds/HoneyBeeez
Summary: Keith doesn't want anything to do with anyone, and for good reason. For most of his life, he did that perfectly... all until he got into university and ran into Lance, who has some uncanny ability to catch his attention.All hell breaks lose when Lance corners Keith and tells him he needs him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey so i just took an english class and had to write a story, so this is the beginning of it. i thought the characters were pretty similar to keith and lance so. i just put the names in. tell me what you think!

Lance has always been… vexing, in every sense of the word. The thing Keith hated most was that he had enough evidence to back up that claim.

If anyone asked, Keith would tell you exactly why Lance wasn’t the person everyone thought he was, or at least the person he wanted everyone to believe he was.

Keith would tell you that, while Lance practically projected his voice on purpose every time he said something, he would still listen to miserable music and sing along so loud (in the most heartbreaking voice) that Keith could hear through the flimsy walls of their freshman year dorm.

Keith would tell you that, while Lance sneered and jeered with the stoners at the edges of the field on campus, not only would he refuse to take a puff of the joint, but he would drop anything for someone who asked. (Once, Keith left his friends with little to no explanation when a sophomore asked help for him on their advanced physics problem set.)

Keith would tell you that, while Lance could hold his liquor as well as any stereotypical Irishman, he could still go from knocking back his sixth cup of beer to helping a greenish person sitting forlornly on a set of stairs that he didn’t even know. (This was at the first and only party Keith has ever been to, the only reason being he was dragged along by his freshman roommate to make sure he got back safely.)

And the thing is, Keith would love to say that he didn’t know any of this. He would love to say that he didn’t know a thing about the infamous Lance because, quite honestly, Keith wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t want anything to do with anyone. They were all just an unnecessary obstacle on his way to law school, on his way to success.

So, it irritates Keith to no end how his eyes flick and follow Lance like he was a sign on the side of a forest path (that Keith used to escape into) when he so much as walks into the room.

Strolling to the start of sophomore year, moving in all three of his boxes and two suitcases, Keith resolved to not have anything to do with Lance. He was an anomaly, and he was an anomaly that didn’t matter. Being hung up on someone, no matter how interesting or bizarre they were, would only get in Keith’s way towards success, and that was the one thing he swore he would never let happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have decided to just cut this story up into "chapters" where the sections break off naturally. let's hope this works. enjoy!!

Keith ducked his head down as he walked out of the lecture hall. The carpet underfoot was a rich mixture of a variety of dark colors, blues and blacks and deep reds and purples and greens, but it was something so plain no one paid attention to it. Keith always thought it was fascinating. He wondered how they made carpet, what the process was, and he made a mental note to look up a YouTube tutorial later.

He was three steps away from the flight of stairs that would take up to ground level and out of the building when something yanked hard on his backpack. A strangled sound gurgled out of his lips before he could stop it, stumbling backwards in a mad attempt not to fall, and when his brain caught up with the rest of him, his head whipped around to see what he was caught on.

Lance’s jaw was locked into a hard line and his eyes were looking at something far beyond the walls surrounding them, but even still, he yanked on the loop of Keith’s backpack again.

There weren’t rough hands jamming into his shoulders or a belt swinging towards him, but the jerk felt the same. Keith had half a mind to dig in his heels, to pull away and dart up the stairs, but the added pressure across his shoulders took the other half back in time and didn’t let him come back until Lance let him go.

“What?” Keith wanted to sound like venom on Lance’s ears, but instead he was breathless, shocked, and he winced at himself. (His reaction had nothing to do with how, at the same time, Lance raised his hand to run it innocently through his dark hair.)

“You’re meeting me at the train station tomorrow,” Lance said, without preamble, setting his hands on his hips before shifting them to cross over his chest. Keith blinked, tugged on his backpack straps, and opened his mouth to refuse him. “No exceptions.”

“No, thank you,” Keith spat, gathering his wits and trying to force himself past Lance. The taller man just grabbed his backpack loop again, tugged him back, and pushed his back against the wall. “I’m not going.” Keith wanted to sound defiant, he really did, but his voice broke exactly the way he didn’t want it to, and it made him sound pathetic.

“You have to.” Lance’s hand was still hovering over his shoulder, pressed to the wall behind it, and it made Keith want to shy away even more. He doesn’t want to deal with this, he doesn’t want Lance in his face, he wants him to leave him alone but of course he isn’t going to.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Keith said, before sidestepping away from Lance, away from the wall, and facing him before he can grab his backpack again, “so just leave me alone.” He took a step backwards, and then another, and moved to turn on his heel and dart around the corner and back up the steps, but he didn’t get that far.

“I need you, Keith,” Lance says, his voice the same broken one he knew accompanied sad melodies across thin thresholds. It made him freeze, not expecting the hurt in his voice, but not expecting the sincerity behind the words, either.

The last person who told Keith they needed him was dead. He swore he would never let anyone get in his way, but he felt a familiar stab in his chest and his shoulder blades drawing up to his ears, and he knew he wasn’t going to say no.

“Why?” is what Keith heard fall out of his mouth, and something about the question snapped Lance to attention. He whipped around, looking up and down the hallway they were in, before looking back at Keith.

“Didn’t know you were gonna agree that easy,” Lance said, the edges of his mouth twisting upwards and Keith had to remind himself to look away. Keith huffed, scrunching his nose at the answer, and tried re-asking his question before Lance cut him off. “Don’t worry about that. It’s nothin’ you can’t handle.”

“Then tell me,” Keith pushed, tired of this game already. He was sure Lance didn’t need him, specifically, but there was truth in his voice when he said it.

“S’not important,” was Lance’s reply, which made Keith clench his fists and purse his lips together before looking down at the menagerie carpet. “All you need to do is show up at the train station at five.”

“What do I need?” Keith ground out, not looking at Lance’s face but at his shoes instead. They were scuffed black combat boots that went up to about midcalf. Keith always thought they looked uncomfortable.

“Money, warm clothes, and _no books_.” Lance shifted his feet into a wider stance, and Keith could practically feel the pleased expression that spread across Lance’s face. “Sorry, scholarship boy, but there’s no room for studying here. You can get all your homework done later.” He paused, before laughing. “God, I sound like your older brother or something.”

Keith winced, held his backpack straps tight, and turned on his heels sharply. “Train station at five. Bye.”

Keith never ran up a set of stairs that fast in his life.

He never navigated a sidewalk with tears in his eyes either, but there was a first for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me! tell me what you think!   
> im here if you need me, and im hijackedhoneybeeez on tumblr if you want to reach me there!   
> -HB


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha this is working so well im kind of surprised

The train station right on the edge of campus was filled with people milling around, phones in hand or paper being scanned or tickets being bought. It was modern, quaint, with patterned bricks lining the floor and a small café tucked into the station’s side. The small benches had graffiti scrawled onto it, and a sleeping bag or two was thrown below an awning, but it didn’t detract from how… _nice_ it was.

Keith stood by a couple of bushes that were leafy green and budding small white flowers, gripping his backpack strap with one hand and their tickets inside his hoodie’s pocket with the other. Lance told him to buy a ticket to the farthest place they could get to and he did so by texting Keith, which was insane, because no one Keith knew even had his number. He forced the thought out of his mind, taking a deep breath and noticing that the small white flowers smelled exactly like the color green.

A shout of his name snapped him out of the moment, making him sway on his feet a bit and look up. He was expecting Lance, but he wasn’t expecting _this_.

Clad in black tights, jean shorts, a highlighter pink crop top, a leather jacket and those _awful_ combat boots, Lance stood in front of him, gave him a wry smile, and canted his hip out to the side.

“Like what you see?” he cooed, batting his eyelashes at Keith, who knew his face was something crossed between horror and disbelief. (He hated the way his eyes took it all in, too shocked to tell himself to stop until he saw that Lance’s belly button was _pierced_.) He blinked, pulled himself together, and gave Lance a dry look.

“You thought now would be a good time to try your hand at crossdressing?” Keith asked incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest and giving him a deadpanned expression.

“Sometimes you gotta stand out to blend in,” Lance said, a laugh in his voice, before stepping closer and pulling Keith into a fierce hug. “ _Play along_ ,” he hissed in his ear, and the words made Keith’s hair stand on end and a shiver to run up his spine. When Lance pulled away and gave him a sappy smile, Keith looked away bitterly and saw that there were a number of people staring at them. “So, ya got the tickets ta Arus?”

“Oh, thank god I got the right ones,” Keith said, forcing his lips to twist the tiniest bit upwards. “You know, you could’ve told me we were going to Arus instead of telling me ‘ _the farthest place away from here_.’ It would have made things a lot easier.”

“But it would’ve ruined the surprise!” Lance whined, slipping his hand into Keith’s palm and resting his head on his shoulder. “You’ve never been, have ya?”

“I know it’s the gayest district outside of The Castro,” Keith mumbled, using his other hand to pull a ticket from his hoodie pocket and hold it in front of Lance’s face. The other man took it gleefully and planted a kiss on his cheek, just brief enough to mean _nothing_ , but the feeling made Keith’s pulse thrum in his temples and his stomach tangle up into unpleasant figure-eights.

“You’re in for a shock, then,” Lance said with a laugh, squeezing his hand before tugging him along. “C’mon, the train’s almost here.”

When the train rolled in, Lance and Keith filed in with the rest of the people flooding the platform. Keith trailed behind Lance, hands linked, as the other led them to the last car, the one that held the bikes. Lance stood back and let Keith take the window seat, before sitting right next to him, slouching, and sighing.

It took Keith a second to figure out what felt odd about the whole thing, but it clicked eventually. The way he let Keith sit by the window, the way he sprawled out, the way he’s taking up as much space as possible, it was obvious he was trapping Keith in. He tried ignoring the way his blood rose to a rolling boil and the way his mind raced. He waited until the train started rolling on the tracks again before sitting up, turning towards Lance, and giving him a glare.

“What was that all about?” he demanded, and when Lance raised an eyebrow at him (a single one, kind of impressive to Keith), he heaved a sigh. “The cross-dressing, the hand-holding, the _kiss_ , Arus?” he listed, hearing himself become more incredulous with every word. “Just what the heck are we doing out here?”

“I made up a story,” Lance said slowly, looking at the train roof instead of him, “and you’re gonna play along, because if you don’t, we’re gonna get caught.”

“Caught? What are you talking about?”

“We’re a couple. We’ve been together for a couple years without our parents knowing’.”

“You know, that’s not what I-”

“Your parents found out and are forcing us to break up. We decided to run away together instead of having to live apart. We’re running away to Arus because we know someone’ll help us there.” Lance smiled a bit, before looking back at Keith. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“Sounds like a rip-off of some rom-com you found on Netflix,” Keith mumbled, huffing. “So, we’re dating.” He said it like it was a punishment, and it was. This was not what he was expecting, but leave it to Lance to blow even the stupidest thing out of the water. Lance didn’t need him for this. He could’ve gotten someone more willing, and yet he had to go for him.

“I always knew you would like the idea,” Lance said cheerily, slumping over to rest his head on Keith’s shoulder again.

“Get of me,” Keith spat pushing him off. “In your wildest dreams.”

“You have _no idea_ how wild my dreams get,” Lance purred and laughed when Keith scoffed and scooted as close to the window as possible. “Anyways, we should probably get some sleep. There’s two hours before this train’ll stop at Arus.” And with that, Lance closed his eyes, stretched out, and fell asleep.

Perfect. Keith was stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was no way he could leave, a wall behind him, a window on his left, the seats in front of him too close to the ceiling to climb over, and Lance blocking him in his corner.

He hated this. He hated getting used to a place, settling down for once in his life, and leaving it behind for who knows how long. He hated how his resolved crumbled so easily, the way Lance talked him into a corner and made sure he wouldn’t refuse. He hated the way Lance kept him here, trapping him, restricting him, _getting in his way_ so simply that Keith swore he tasted cigarette smoke in the air. He hated the unpredictability of Lance, of the train as it swayed uneasily as it sped down the tracks. He hated the way he could see his life becoming the train, travelling far and out of control with Lance at the helm and there was nothing to stop it. He hated the way his eyelids drooped, the way the obliviousness of sleep dulled the edges of his hate and made him forget what he was hating in the first place.


	4. theres no escape, even in dreams

It was cold and dark and the streetlights flickered right on the edge of death, bathing the sidewalk in an inconsistent, dull orange, but Keith knew exactly where he was. He was _home_ , his first one anyways, and he took off down the street before he thought twice.

The waist-high, dented chain link fence stood out from the white pickets that came before and after it, and Keith pushed his way through the gate that’s been broken long before he could remember. The lawn was still dingy, dying, and scattered with trash and perpetually ignored newspapers, the way it has always been, and he felt a smile tugging at his lips as he hopped up the three stocky steps that made up their porch in one bound.

The stucco of the house was still a pale pink, a little duller than it was, but weathered just enough to tell him it was from time. _It’s been such a long time_. He threw open the screen door, the only door that was ever closed, and ducked into his home.

The walls were still their slightly-obnoxious blue and still held their eclectic pictures, from a shot of his brother’s favorite street, to random relatives, to the one time his brother scrounged up enough money to take him to an amusement park. The carpet was still tan, tattered, and stained, and the furniture sat in the indents they made by being static too long. The overwhelming scent of cigarette smoke hung in the air, settled into the carpet, the furniture, the house itself, and was oddly comforting in a way that Keith recognized but couldn’t rationalize.

“Shiro!” he yelled, breathless, a tightness in his stomach that wasn’t from running. There was no reply. Keith gulped, dread washing through him before he could even name it, his eyes flitting to find any sign of him. He hasn’t checked on him for so long, _it’s been so long_ …

He darted forward, hopping over the overstuffed couch in a fluid motion, before crossing the line where carpet turned cheap linoleum, into the kitchen. The sickly-sweet scent of rotting food hung heavily in the air, almost making Keith gag. The trash was piled high, accompanied by flies buzzing eagerly around it. The dishes were piled high, fossilized in their filth, untouched for what seemed like all of time itself. Keith turned away, disgusted and fearful, carding his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm his scatterbrained thoughts. He shouldn’t have left him alone for this long, _it’s been so long_ …

“Look at me, Keith!”

Color started to leech out of everything around him as soon as the words cut through the air.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled, scrambling out of the kitchen and looking around.

“Don’t you dare,” he was seething, it was all in his voice, the crazed one he used whenever he wanted Keith to listen, and it was coming from upstairs. Keith dove towards them and took them two at a time. “Don’t you _dare_ , not even for a second, let anybody get in your way! Don’t let nobody take your success from you!”

He was up the stairs and darting down the hallway. The carpet was turning light grey, the walls were already dulling, the door to the bathroom was ajar and black.

And there he was, in black-and-white, strewn across the bathroom floor with his face lying in a puddle of his own gray puke. Keith fell to his knees, hesitated to reach out to touch his brother, and looked up and away from the mess with tears in his eyes. The only thing that retained its vibrancy was the bright orange pill bottle that sat, empty, on the sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well thats a downer. sorry


	5. Chapter 5

Keith woke up with a start, sitting up so fast he almost smashed his face into the back of the seat in front of him. He was gasping, choking on air that thankfully didn’t smell like stomach acid and cigarette smoke. His hands were shaking as he lifted them to run them through his hair, and his chest felt like it caved in on itself so crushingly that he curled into himself and tried to calm down.

What snapped him out of it was a hand on his shoulder and a kind voice.

“You okay, babe?” Lance asked, and Keith was shocked back to reality. He sucked in a breath desperately, like he would never be able to breathe again, and slowly sat up straight. It took him a moment to focus on something other than the rhythm of his heartbeat in his eardrums, but he slowly trained his eyes on Lance’s confused face and gave him his own look of puzzlement.

“Did you just call me _babe_?” Keith asked dubiously, the words falling out of his mouth so easily it almost scared him. Lance looked taken aback for at least half a second before his face shattered into what Keith thought was a relieved smile.

“You’re a _terrible_ actor,” Lance huffed through a laugh, hanging his head before shifting to his feet and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Train’s stopping in Arus soon. C’mon.”

Shakily, Keith got to his feet, dragging his own backpack along as Lance led him to the exit doors. The train was barely rolling into the station by then, and almost on cue, Lance wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders and pulled him close as the train jerked dangerously. It was so easy to fall into him, but it was bizarre, mostly because Keith never had someone he could fall into before but also because it was _Lance_ and this was just _an act_ but it felt so genuine.

“You ready for this?” Lance asked, making Keith look up from where he was tucked under Lance’s arm. He unraveled himself from Lance’s grip and glanced at the floor.

“Was I ever ready?” Keith grumbled, trying to look nervous and excited, trying to play the part, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to go back to the Garrison, he wanted to get lost in text books and case studies, but he was in Arus with Lance running from God knows what.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Lance says, taking his hand as the doors open. “It just takes some gettin’ used to.”

The station at Arus was nothing like the one at Middle Way. The hard cement floor was undecorated, stained with blackened gum and dirt and trash, and the administration building nearby had tents and sleeping bags lining the walls, the people who owned them sitting nearby and glaring at those who could afford a train ticket. Keith felt a lump in his throat. He’s been in worse places, but it’s never been with him on someone else’s arm. He felt like he was under a spotlight, and he hated that it made his skin crawl.

“This way,” Lance sighed under his breath, guiding him away from everyone milling around on the platform and into a tunnel-like path that spit them out onto the street.

The first thing Keith saw was the gay pride flag, waving in the light breeze with colors blazing, on top of the first building they saw.

“Well, they waste no time,” Keith mumbled, and Lance huffed out a laughed.

“You’ve never been to the Castro, either, huh?” Lance asked, not waiting for an answer. “What about the gay community center at Paradise?”

“Paradise?”

“Paradise, the Garrison, same difference,” Lance dismissed, waving his free hand nonchalantly before returning to Keith with a glare. “Don’t avoid the question.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you haven’t.” Lance rolled his eyes. “The thing about places like these is that you don’t have to waste time. It’s kinda implied that you don’t have to hide. They wanted it to be that way, accepting and all that.”

“I didn’t really expect you to know so much about this place,” Keith noted, stepping away from a puddle of black sludge long-since dried on the sidewalk. He glanced up, and Lance barely needed to pay attention to where he was dragging him. “Did you grow up here?”

“My, my,” Lance crooned, giving him a sly smile. “Keithan, asking questions about me? I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Shut up.” Keith tried getting his hand back, but Lance clung to him like he was the only thing keeping him on the ground.

“Nope,” Lance teased, popping the word like a piece of gum. “And nah, but I lived pretty damn close.” There was a pause, before Lance gave him a look. “Question for a question?”

“Lancelot, asking questions about me?” Keith mimicked, trying to sound scandalized. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Why the hell am I Lancelot?” Lance wheezed, finally letting go of Keith’s hand to clutch his stomach as he laughed hysterically. Keith was sure several people across the street were giving them dirty looks.

“My name isn’t Keithan,” Keith explained, carefully keeping his face neutral, “so I gave you something equally ridiculous.”

“Lancelot isn’t ridiculous, it just sounds weird coming out of your mouth,” Lance said, a laugh still in his voice. “I was gonna ask you something but… oh! Right!” Lance gave Keith a look, eyes serious. “Do you usually have nightmares, or was that just a one-time thing?”

Keith’s brain stalled, his mouth fell open, and he almost fell over because his feet stopped so suddenly. Nightmare? He could feel his heart hammering near his ribcage and his tongue felt thick where it sat in his mouth. Before Lance noticed, Keith fell into step with him again and gripped his backpack straps a little tighter.

“Do you normally drag someone you barely know out into a gay district and not tell them why, or is this just a one-time thing?” Keith echoed, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Ah, a taste of my own medicine,” Lance sighed, almost wistful, and Keith winced at the phrase as it fell out of his mouth. “Tell ya what,” Lance continued, dancing around Keith for a second before settling in front of him, walking backwards to keep eye contact, “I’ll tell you exactly why we’re out here if you tell me what your nightmare was about.”

“No _thank you_.” Keith didn’t even have to think about it, didn’t want to think about it. The sunset was dying, the brilliant oranges and reds in the sky fading away into their dark blues and purples. “You never wanted to tell me about why we’re out here, and I don’t want to talk about dreams that mean _nothing_ , so drop it.”

Lance stopped walking and Keith almost ran right into him. They were inches apart, Lance looking bitter as his belly button piercing sparkled fiercely in the street lamp’s light and Keith glaring at him like he would rather him disappear.

“You can’t say your dream meant nothing. You woke up and you looked three seconds away from throwing up.” There was something in his voice, harshness aside, that made Keith’s chest ache. He hated it.

“I said, drop it.”

“Well, someone’s a lil’ feisty,” a voice piped, snapping both of their attentions to a small man that stopped next to them. “He buggin’ you, baby?” He tried being smooth, inching closer to Keith, almost reaching out to touch him, but Lance pushed Keith behind him and threw a solid punch to the man’s jaw and had him stumbling backwards.

“Get the fuck away from my _boyfriend_ , you fuckin’ creep,” Lance spat, venom falling from his lips so potent that it makes Keith’s hair stand on end.

“Psycho!” the man screeched, wounded, holding his face and glaring at them spitefully as he slunk away.

There was a painfully silent moment afterwards where Keith caught his breath, terrified and confused, and Lance pulled himself together, fixing his jacket and huffing in agitation a bit.

“Lance,” Keith breathed when the edges of tension and fear dissipated from the air. He wanted to say something, he had to, but the words stuck in his throat like a pill swallowed wrong.

“Hungry?” Lance asked, ignoring him and flashing him a smile before jerking his head in the direction they were heading and loping off down the street like nothing happened.

Keith could have turned and run. He could have been at the train station in no time, hopped on and found his way back to the Garrison by midnight. But he took one look behind him, at the little man’s receding form, the darkness that lay in the middle of the street lamps, and all the possibilities that creeped in that void, and trotted in Lance’s wake like a lost puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the stakes have been officially raised. youre welcome  
> tell me what you think!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beach episode we all deserve, actually

Gas stations that are barely lit in the dead of night aren’t exactly Keith’s favorite place to go, especially since Lance insisted they walked in practically attached at the hip, but he guesses they’re a good place to go for cheap food. Lance paid for everything, crooning about how good of a boyfriend he is even as the cashier drank him in like the tall glass of water the pervert thought he was.

The weirdest part was how the cashier gave them a discount and wolf-whistled as they were walking out and Lance pressed an overdramatic kiss to the side of Keith’s head.

“You really need to stop with that,” Keith said, pushing away from Lance the moment they were out of sight of the store and wiped the side of his face with a grimace.

“What? Afraid of cooties, scholarship boy?” Lance sang after him, already digging into a bag of chips that he grabbed. “You know, they’re not gonna kill you.”

“But _you_ might,” Keith grumbled. Lance choked on his mouthful, coughing hard and long enough that Keith was actually kind of worried. When his sputtering died down, his body racked with a wayward cough or two, Lance gave Keith an incredulous look. “What? I don’t know what you dragged me out here for. You could kill me and I’d have no idea.”

“You really think I would have busted an asshole’s face in for looking at you if I just wanted to kill you?” Lance questioned, eyebrow raised and skeptical. Keith ignored the question in lieu of taking a sip of his orange soda and fishing out a premade sandwich Lance bought for him. “That’s pretty fucked up,” Lance said after a minute.

The words hung in the air and solidified like a wall in between them, following them with each step they took. Keith felt like he couldn’t swallow right, like the words he had in his throat barricaded themselves there, fighting to stay in when all he wanted was for them to leave. He didn’t even know what those words _were_.

“Not everything…” he says, and stops, realizing that the words waited too long to slip out and now they sounded like awkwardly out-of-place music. But Lance was staring at him, he could feel it, and he knew Lance would press if he didn’t continue. “Not everything turns out perfectly. Some things are… are pretty messed up.”

“Speaking from experience?” Lance responded softly after a moment passed. Keith hated the way he could feel his eyes burn from a simple question. “Hey, I get it,” Lance said after a second, “things aren’t perfect. Still not right to insinuate that I’d kill you in cold blood.”

“So, you’re saying you would kill me if it wasn’t in cold blood?” Keith jabbed.

“I’m saying you wouldn’t talk about yourself even if I put a knife to you throat,” Lance replied dryly, the shift sudden enough for Keith to feel like he did something wrong.

“What do you-?”

“I mean you can’t see when someone is asking empty questions and when someone wants to know you,” Lance mumbled, almost like he doesn’t want to answer but he did anyways. “I try, for a second, to get you ta open up, but you hate me so damn much that none of it fuckin’ matters.”

“Why does it matter if I open up or not?” Keith pushed, not looking at him. The air smelled like it was tainted by salt, and his brain derailed slightly. “We’re only going to go back to Paradise and you’re going to forget I exist.”

“And you didn’t deny the tiny fact that _you hate me_ ,” Lance noted dully, sounding… _upset_. Keith didn’t even notice that Lance said it. He tried opening his mouth to refute it, even though he was sure that _I don’t hate you_ would feel weird on his tongue, but Lance already beat him to the punch. “If you say you don’t hate me, you’re lyin’.” It sounded definitive, like Lance knew Keith couldn’t argue with his logic. “Even when I’m the only person in the entire world that you have, you _still_ hate me.”

There was nothing, in that moment. Nothing in Keith’s brain, nothing creeping up to his lips, nothing flowing in his veins or keeping his heart pumping. It felt like dying. The _hurt_ , the _truth_ , the way Lance said it, sounding for all the world like he was _lamenting_ something, made Keith confused, made him high on something he’d never thought to smoke before, made his world spin and his brain detach and there was… _nothing_. Nothing he could say or do that would get Lance to understand that it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t like that _at all_ , but it was, all at the same time.

He really did have no one. Lance was the only one here, and, even then, he ran him away.

When his eyes stopped being glazed over, when Lance flopped down to the floor, Keith realized where they were. A beach. The grass was soft under his shoes, he could tell, the waves rolled in and hummed the song they always sang, the crescent moon hung low in the air, and stars and all reflected in the far-away waters. Salt was in his lungs, his nose, his hair.

His first time at the beach and all Keith could think about was if he hated the person he was with or not.

“We’re sleepin’ here for the night,” Lance slurred, already using his backpack as a pillow as he zipped up his leather jacket and got comfortable. “There’s a bus comin’ in the morning that’ll take us to another train.”

“How long are we going to be out here?” Keith asked, voice small, as he sat down on the grass not too far away from Lance’s form.

“As long as we have to,” Lance answered simply. “It’s my ass on the line, here, and actually, the less you know the better.”

Keith slipped his backpack off his shoulders as worry climbed up his throat. _His ass on the line_. This wasn’t a _I’m running away because I hate my life and what it’s become_ , it was a _I’m running away because if I don’t, everything will crumble down on top of me_. He was doing what he could to get himself out of his mess. Out of everything he wished he didn’t know about Lance, it was that he would never do anything that hurt someone else. Thinking he would kill him, Keith realized, was the stupidest thought he ever had.

“I’m glad I came, then,” Keith whispered, hoping, pleading that Lance wouldn’t hear him. But the dry huff of a chuckle he got in reply told him otherwise.

Lance curled in on himself, shivering slightly, shuffling here and there, and, if the change of his breathing was any indication, he fell asleep. Keith didn’t even think of sleeping. The way the waves were crashing softly not too far away was mesmerizing in the best way possible, getting him out of his own head and predicting the timing of the next wave. He tore at the grass under him, a childish thing but something he couldn’t help doing. Shoot by shoot, they were ripped from their sandy soil and were shredded to Keith’s content until he was sure his fingertips were slightly stained green from the chlorophyll.

It must not have been too late, Keith mused, looking around to still see people in the distance, lingering around the shoreline or walking down the small pier. He could check his phone, which was at the bottom of his backpack, but he almost scoffed at the thought in the darkness, wondering what good that would do. It would waste battery and _Lance_ didn’t even know how long they would be pretending out here. He sucked in a breath, the salt in the air kind of soothing, and forgot about it.

The chattering of teeth brought him back into his own head as he looked over and saw that Lance was _shaking_ , he was shivering so hard. It was cold, Keith mused, the night unforgiving and the mist from the ocean chilling. He hugged his jacket closer to himself, almost feeling sorry for Lance. He wasn’t wearing much and he was on the floor, he must have been freezing. The fact that he could sleep _at all_ baffled Keith to no end.

He was the only person he had out here, crossdressing and fake relationship and all. Lance wanted to care about him, he punched a random guy for him, he was kind when he woke up from seeing his brother in his dreams for the first time in over a year. Lance was _trying_ , Keith wasn’t sure what he was truly trying to do, but he was _trying_. And, Keith mused, he shouldn’t punish him for that.

Tentatively, Keith maneuvered to Lance’s side, placing his backpack next to Lance’s before lying down next to him ion the grass. It was soft, like he knew it would be.

Awkward wasn’t a word to describe it, the way Keith’s breath held, the way Lance almost sighed at the mere hint of Keith’s warmth next to him. Someone so close _really_ shouldn’t make Keith’s heart stutter or his thoughts tangle. But it was _Lance_ , and out of everything he wished he didn’t know about him, one of them was that Keith knew Lance had a weird kind of control over his attention.

As sudden as Keith’s decision-making, Lance rolled over, throwing an arm around Keith and sighing again, more content. Keith swore his heart stopped.

He didn’t want to think about how compromising this was, didn’t want to think about the way Lance huddled closer to him, didn’t want to think about how much he liked it, didn’t want to think about any of this as Keith drifted off with the sound of his heartbeat and the crashing waves in his ears, but he fell asleep with a smile anyways.


	7. Chapter 7

One moment he was asleep, the other he was up to the sounds of rustling and zippers. At first, he barely bothered to open his eyes, figuring it was Lance fidgeting around with his backpack or something. But then reality settled over him with the breath he pulled in.

Salt. They were on a beach. In Arus. And Lance was plastered to Keith like if he wasn’t he would fall apart. Whoever was moving was _not_ Lance.

Keith was up in a flash, scrambling out of Lance’s arms and to his feet, his pulse already pounding in his ears, and eyes open to see a girl not too much younger than them wrists-deep in Lance’s backpack. They make eye contact, the moment tense, before the girl pushes off the balls of her feet and starts running, small things clutched in each of her palms.

He followed her, even when he heard Lance’s slurred confusion, even when he had no idea what she stole. He didn’t stop, didn’t think he could stop, sprinting after her as she slipped through the knee-high barricades that separated the beach and the parking lot. He hopped over it effortlessly, landing back on the sidewalk easily, before getting close enough to _lunge_ -

And then they were on the floor, sand in the cracks of the cement, a glint of metal in the light of the rising sun. Keith felt something sting across his cheek as they struggled against each other, and as Keith struggled to grab the girl’s hands, he noticed the pocket knife in one of them.

Quickly, almost deftly, Keith twisted the knife out of her hand.

“ _Fucking_ -!” she hissed, fighting him as he tried to grab whatever was in her other hand. There was something warm on Keith’s cheek. A drop of blood splattered against the girl’s cheek. He dove towards her hand, trapping it in his and wrenching whatever she had out of her grip.

Almost immediately, the girl flipped him off her, his head hitting the cement hard, before she scooped the knife up from where it fell and darted away. Keith, disoriented, but with the stolen object in his hand, didn’t bother to follow her.

“ _Keith_!” he heard someone gasp, and he weakly looked up from his splayed-out position on the sidewalk to see Lance rushing toward him, both of their backpacks bouncing on his shoulders. Keith struggled to sit up, pushing himself forward before clutching at the back of his head. “Holy shit, are you okay?!” Lance asked frantically, collapsing down onto the ground next to him.

“ _No_ ,” Keith replied, gritting his teeth. Every thrum of his pulse sent a fresh wave of pain through him. “I just fought a batshit-crazy asshole for…” he paused, looking down at what was in his palm. A wallet.

“I never thought I’d hear you swear, pretty boy,” Lance chuckled. Keith didn’t hear him. This was _his_ wallet. “Fuckin’ shit, Keith, you’re bleeding.” Lance took Keith’s chin in between two fingers and turned his face. Keith knocked his hand aside.

“She stole my wallet,” Keith said, his voice hollow. He didn’t even know he could sound like that.

“You’re cut pretty bad-”

“ _You_ stole my wallet!” Keith seethed. “Why the _hell_ would you do that?”

“Keith, I can explain-”

“You _better_ -”

“But we have to get you patched up first,” Lance continued like he didn’t even hear him. “You could die from that sorta thing out here,” he added, sounding kind of scared, before shaking his head slightly. “Can you walk?”

“I…” Keith wanted to keep fighting about the wallet, he really did, but the initial sting of his wound came back with twice the intensity and the pain made him dizzy. “I think?”

Lance helped him to his feet, and when he swayed dangerously the moment Lance let go of him, Lance grabbed his shoulder. He slipped Keith’s backpack over his shoulders before adjusting his own on his back. Then, with a shaky smile, he pulled Keith’s arm across his shoulders, holding his hand, as he placed his other hand around his waist. Close, they synchronized their steps and made their way to find a bathroom.

“You know, I could probably carry you,” Lance noted after a couple minutes.

“Then sweep me off my feet, Lancelot,” Keith mumbled bitterly.

“And make your life easier?” Lance questioned. “No thank you.”

They reached the cinderblock structure after a couple of painful minutes, and Lance led Keith inside. It smelled like feces, salt and sand, and a little bit like cleaning product (but not much). The sinks and toilets were metal and, thankfully, unmarred.

“Okay, stay here,” Lance muttered, letting Keith lean on the wall between a stall and the sink, “and don’t you _dare_ fall asleep.” Right, concussions were a thing. Lance swung his backpack onto the sink and started digging through it. “I’m sure I’ve got some… ha!” he shouted, pulling out a package of white squares.

“What’s…” Keith tried asking, but Lance was already ripping one square open and pulling out a smaller square. The smell of rubbing alcohol was undeniable and made his nose burn.

“’Kay, this might hurt a lot, but at least you won’t get infected,” Lance said, determined, before turning Keith’s face like he did before and started mopping the blood from his face. “Why the hell did you chase her, anyways? You could’ve gotten yourself _killed_ ,” Lance spat, but the edge of his voice was blunted by concentration.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Keith responded, his eyes closed against the pain as he tried not to grimace. He didn’t need to look to know that Lance was pegging him with worried eyes.

“Waddaya mean?”

“When foster parents don’t care, neither do their kids,” Keith admitted quickly, the words slurring together as his cheek stung. He sucked in a breath and waited for the pain to pass. “I think last year was the first time I saw myself without bruises for… a really long time.”

“You’re a foster kid?” Lance questioned.

“ _Was_. Aged out of the system.” Keith relaxed a bit as Lance moved away with the alcohol wipe, and he shifted a bit so he could look at himself in the dingy mirror above the steel sink. His face was a bloody mess, but at least the cut wasn’t deep. He grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and started mopping at his face. When he looked at Lance and smirked, he could feel the wound stretch. “How else do you think I got to be _scholarship boy_?”

“I didn’t know it was because…” Lance hastened to say, sounding like a guilty man trying to plead his case.

“No one knew, I don’t blame you,” Keith sighed, watching as Lance rifled around and found some antiseptic and a big enough Band-Aid. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” he whispered, letting Lance take care of him. It felt surreal, after all this time being on his own, for someone to be caring for him. Keith almost laughed at how ridiculous it was.

“Is that what your nightmare was about?” Lance said after a while, smoothing the last side of the Band-Aid onto his cheek. “All better,” he added, his voice small as his hand lingered for a second. Keith felt his chest tighten and his throat close a little at the words. He had to look away.

Lance didn’t press, didn’t question his further or made him look. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen before he sighed, checked Keith over one last time, and jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom exit.

“We missed the bus,” he admitted, “the least we can do is get a little breakfast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i have officially decided that The Thief is supposed to be Pidge, and the creepy guy that hit on Keith is SUPPOSED to be Hunk, but lets be honest the two of them would never do anything like that BUT. it fits? i guess?  
> please tell me what you think!!


	8. Chapter 8

McDonald’s wasn’t the classiest restaurant in the world, but being the only one Keith’s been to since he aged out of the system, it felt like a luxury he wasn’t supposed to have. It was strange, he mused, eating hash browns and a breakfast sandwich in a booth with someone other than his brother sitting with him.

“My brother,” he said before he could stop himself.

“What?” Lance said through a mouthful, reaching for his coffee to wash it down.

“My nightmare, the reason I was in foster care, why I hate you,” Keith listed, unable to help the guilt in his voice, “it all leads back to my brother.”

“Well, he couldn’t’ve been that bad…” Lance replied, waving his hand before meeting Keith’s gaze and trailing off.

“He overdosed,” Keith forced out, averting his eyes. His hands found his own coffee cup and circled around it. “I was ten. It was my job to make sure that he was alright, and… then he died. I don’t think it was an accident.”

One of Lance’s hands inched close and took Keith’s, guiding it away from the side of the coffee cup and holding on tightly. Keith didn’t look up.

“He always told me to not let anything get in my way,” Keith muttered. “And when he died, that was the only thing I had left of him. He was a hypocrite, I knew, I _know_ ,” the hand tightened and, almost on instinct, Keith shifted his hand so that he was holding on to Lance, too, “but I couldn’t ignore it. And everything was _fine_ until you walked in, because you were _everywhere_ , and I couldn’t…”

There was nothing left in Keith’s head, nothing left to translate to his lips, nothing left but to look up at Lance, who looked… _pained_. Even then, there was nothing but hands that held on like there would be nothing left, unfinished food, and half-empty coffee cups.

“Hey,” Lance broke the silence, a forced smile on his lips, “holding onto something ‘cuz that’s all you have left isn’t bad.” He said it like it was obvious, but it was strained, and somehow Keith felt like crying and throwing up at the same time.

“It’s just pathetic,” Keith tacked on, pulling his hand away. This time, Lance didn’t stop him.

“It’s not,” Lance grit out, huffing a bit before taking a sip of his coffee and leaning back in his seat. “I think it’s story time,” he added after a second.

“What?”

“You told me about your nightmare,” Lance said, and Keith ignored the fact that he really hadn’t, “so I have to tell you why we’re here.” He sighed, exasperated, before giving Keith a look, something glinting in his eyes. “You remember Maria?”

“Your sister?”

“I knew you paid too much attention to me,” Lance laughed, and Keith looked away, face redder than when it was covered in blood just an hour ago. “But yeah, my _idiot_ of a sister. She’s always getting into… _interesting_ trouble. Can never say no to anyone, you know?” Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This guy was bad for her, we all knew it, he was a fuckin’ stalker asshole, but she was smitten. Well, it didn’t take long for him to start hitting her and, well, I couldn’t just sit there and let her get hurt. I told him to back off and that she wanted nothing to do with him, but then he started stalking her. _Everywhere_.”

Lance was antsy. Keith knew he was animated when he told stories, but Lance was getting way too worked up. His hands were flying wildly, almost hitting his coffee cup clean off the table. Keith wanted to reach out and take his hands in his, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I was going home a couple days ago, and I found him outside. So, I knocked him on his ass and told him to fuck off, and he…” Lance sucked in a breath, “he said he would come for me next. I tried running him off, but then he started rattling off all sorts of information. He knew everything. I went to the Garrison, what dorm I lied in, what classes I’m taking, my phone number. He said he’d kill me, and Maria and me believed him.”

“So, you booked it?” Keith interjected, causing Lance to freeze. “You didn’t think, once, about calling the police and catching this guy?” Lance opened his mouth, but Keith beat him too it. His lips were moving on their own. “You thought someone was going to kill you so you grabbed the nearest person, created a stupid act, and decided to run away?”

“He was arrested last night,” Lance snarled, keeping Keith from saying anything else. “He was trying to buy a gun when he got in a fight with some guy.”

“Doesn’t help your case,” Keith spat. Lance could have died, Keith could have died. Sure, it was serious. _It was serious_ , and Keith was dragged right in the middle of it. God, they could have _died_ -

“Nothing will, not for you,” Lance said, clipped. “I know it was stupid and dangerous, but what else could I do? He knew _everything_ about me, Keith, how the hell was I supposed to call the cops on him or run away on my own? If I looked different,” he tugged at his leather jacket and crop top, “and was with someone else, he would look right over me.”

“You still strung me along even when you knew this whole thing was dangerous-!” Keith tried yelling.

“But I knew you were smart enough to get yourself out of anything, if it came down to it!” Lance interjected. “You’re not the only one paying too much attention.”

“That doesn’t change anything!” Keith fought, even if the crack in his voice and the heat in his face said otherwise.

“Yeah, I get it, we’re leaving,” Lance spat harshly, suddenly, and when Keith looked over his shoulder, he saw an employee close by with a frightened expression. “Let’s get back to the Garrison.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rainbow flags flowed effortlessly in the wind as they found their way to the train station in Arus, and Keith knew it was stupid to look at them and feel mixed up, but he did anyways. It was a mess, _he_ was a mess, because what was he supposed to do with this? With all of this? He could have been dragged away from a creep on the street, but he wasn’t. He could have been cut to shreds by the girl at the beach, but he wasn’t. He could have been killed with Lance by some maniac, but he wasn’t. He could have been blind to the fact that Lance payed just as much attention to him as vice versa, but he wasn’t.

He didn’t _need_ this. But walking next to the only person that might have truly cared about him made him realize that he _wanted_ this. He was fine on his own, he knew that, he lived by that fact for years, but he didn’t want to be fine.

Pride flying in the wind, Keith wanted to _live_ , not succeed.

And Lance was the perfect example of life. He was contradictions, he was confusing, he was irritating, he was himself. Everything Keith wished he didn’t know about Lance flashed in his mind, made him fight a smile as he trailed two steps behind the man himself. He was three-dimensional with all his lines blurred while Keith was a pencil sketch marred by too much friction.

Opposites. Risks and death versus safety and comfort. It was everything Keith never thought he would ever have to choose between. But he wanted the world Lance lived in no matter the dangers, wanted to be a part of it, wanted to be swept up in vivid colors that didn’t fade for once. He wished it wouldn’t have faded.

When they got to Arus’s train station, it’s cement painted with gum, piss, and history, Keith slid away and bought the tickets before Lance could think about it.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said as the platform was filling with people, looking down at their shoes. Lance’s boots made more sense to him now. Rising midcalf, wearing their scuffs with ease, and looking every bit like a punk-rock cliché, they were stable. Even when Lance shifted in a way that should have thrown off his balance, he was a rock.

He truly was everything Keith wasn’t.

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry. You’re only doing what you think is best, and you never wanted me to get hurt,” Keith’s hand rose to his bandaged cheek unconsciously as he said it. “I shouldn’t have listened to my brother, I shouldn’t’ve shut you out and tried to hate you all this time. I…” he swallowed, “I don’t think I ever hated you. And I don’t want to. You’re right, you were right, you really are the only person I have, and I. Don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose-”

Familiar fingers tilted his head upwards, and there was no warning when a pair of warm, chapped lips pressed to his own.

“You don’t wanna lose,” Lance mumbled, pulling away just enough so the words fanning against Keith’s face like the smoke of a cigarette. The colors were already fading. “Keith, you can have someone next to you, but the last person you need by your side is me.”

“That’s not true,” Keith pleaded, but the train was already pulling into the station and the flags were shades of grey. The only color left was in Lance’s eyes, the way their hazel sparkled with something he didn’t want to think were tears.

“C’mon,” Lance said, jerking his head towards one of the train cars.

Jostled in the crowd of passengers, Keith lost sight of Lance, and just as the train pulled out of the station, he spotted him out the window, standing on the stained cement platform. And he faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats a crappy ending for ya!  
> thank you so much for reading this!! please leave a comment and tell me what you think!  
> love ya!  
> -HB

**Author's Note:**

> well theres the beginning! i hope you liked it!  
> please tell me what you think! i would love to hear some feedback, and if you want the rest of the story published too!  
> Thank you so much, and know that even if things look tough, you'll get through it!  
> love you!  
> -HB


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